


Sweet

by Lyric



Category: Gwen & Blake, Shefani
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8522695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyric/pseuds/Lyric
Summary: "You'll be my soft and sweet..."





	

**Author's Note:**

> See the parallel story - "Strong" - for the other side of this scene.

All I know is that she’s sweet.

The smell of her in my nose when I lean in close; the taste of her on my tongue when we kiss. The laughter that spills from her pillowy lips and the innocent and loving way she approaches life.

She’s so fuckin’ _sweet_.

These thoughts sprint through my mind as we move in the dark, the covers low around my hips as they work themselves gently, but steadily, in and out of the valley between Gwen's angled legs. It’s somewhere between late at night and early in the morning, and I woke up to her soft pecks and murmured words - something about her needing me - and long minutes later, after the slow lazy kisses of lovers still half-asleep piled up on top of us, I moved over her to find her more than ready to accept me.

She’s sticky sweet, like the honey you get from that little bear on the grocery store shelves, or better yet, the real genuine kind that you can’t hardly find anymore because all the honeybees are dying, or some shit. Yeah, I like that better. She’s the real genuine kind of sweet that you rarely bump into, especially in the music business. Somehow, she’s managed to grow sweeter everyday I’ve known her.

Just under her jaw, my tongue takes a pass across the smooth paleness of her skin. A hiss sears past my cheek and her hands grip mine tighter where they lay entwined on the pillow, in the vicinity of her head. My lips skitter over her face to find hers, already open as they gulp in air. I need to savor her, so instead of claiming her mouth like I want to, my teeth skim across her plump bottom lip, already swollen from our earlier kissing match. Long legs pull up, her feet off the bed now, and the new angle sends me sliding further forward into her body. She moans in answer, drawing an echoing one from my chest. I live for this: moments when her only preoccupation is experiencing the pleasure that I make radiate throughout her; moments when my body is the instrument producing the notes of happiness that play upon her face, that stream from her throat.

Sweet little moans and sighs make me harden even further inside of her, if that’s possible. It must be, because I feel like hot steel gliding so smoothly into her, between the impossibly wet lips that close in around me with each pass. The sound we make together is incredible in the calm, navy blue of the night. Her sigh is music to my ears. I can never get enough of her.

Sweet.

It’s amazing how she’s managed to maintain such an beautiful disposition. I've learned so much from her and grown so much as a man under the warmth and coaxing of her sweetness. Its been like a protective coating, smoothing my rough edges and filling up the sad hollows in me. How could I not fall in love with this woman, who’s wrapped me up and treated my heart so tenderly, made me feel like her hero. Who’s soothed my worries and insecurities with the soft touch of her fingertips. How could I not fall willing victim to her sweetness?

Gwen's hands unclasp from mine, fingers stretching as I grind into her, rubbing squarely into the sensitive bud that makes her scream my name sometimes, and moan God's at others. Her insides clamp down on me for a sustained second and I close my eyes against the power of the pleasure that the motion ignites. I move to grasp her hips, pumping into her with a deliberateness that makes her squeal in the back of her throat with delight. Her inner walls grip me so tightly, but I don’t let myself be taken under by how amazing it feels. I wait for the uneven squirms and escalating moans that signal she’s ready to break apart in my arms. In the meantime, I just lean forward and speak softly in her ear, trying to distract myself from the building pressure in my belly, while my hips maintain their steady rhythm:

“You’re so damn sweet.”


End file.
